


we can't choose how we're made

by insomniacjams



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: F/M, Porn with Feelings, suddenly-a-girl!Tyler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-19 23:37:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1488346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insomniacjams/pseuds/insomniacjams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler wakes up a girl. Sex and feelings happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we can't choose how we're made

**Author's Note:**

> I accidentally wrote 10 pages of suddenly-a-girl!Seguin and I am so, so, so sorry. This may fall under the category of porn with feelings.
> 
> Title from [Transgender Dysphoria Blues](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TFgFGgjNQ4E&list=PLxzqJf_WSOQzOfo0l3srgBifLXx9zvdT1) by Against Me!  
> Unbeta'd as always.

Tyler wakes up bleary-eyed and lopsided; the apartment smells like stale bread and air freshener and all he wants is to lumber up the stairs and knock at Jamie's door until he makes Tyler breakfast. He knows how off season mornings go now; in the past few days they'd settled into a routine – him and Jamie, his blatant crush so obvious it can be seen from the moon, and sometimes Jordie, nursing mismatched mugs of coffee and shooting the shit over whatever Jamie wants to make that morning.

Mornings are good, when Tyler's not feeling so lopsided. He hasn't quite cracked his eyes open when he stands, and then wobbles, unsure of his own feet. He's confused for a brief moment as he blinks sleep from his eyes and stretches his arms above his head, rolling his stiff shoulders as he moves. His whole body is abnormally sore, like he'd just played an entire playoff series in the night when he'd had nothing but a light gym session the past few days, since they'd been eliminated by the Ducks.

In fact, Tyler hasn't felt this sore since that one morning in Boston, forever ago, when he was a confused and disoriented rookie, and woke up a girl. Actually though – shit. Tyler runs for the bathroom, and lets out an undignified yelp when he catches the first glimpse of his reflection. Well, he thinks dejectedly as he slumps against the edge of the tub, at least it isn't the first time.

He doesn't make the prettiest girl – or, not the type of girl he's ever been into, at any rate. His hair is still short, buzzed above his ears, ruffled with bedhead. His mouth and ears are still too big, his back teeth are still a bit crooked, his eyes are shit brown, and his boobs are probably no bigger than an A cup. Tyler may be a girl, but he's still Tyler.

None of his clothes fit the right way; the pants are all too tight at the hips, and the shirts either so loose that they hang like a dress since he seems to have lost a few inches, or too thin that he can't leave the apartment without a bra. A bra – he has one of those somewhere from the last time. 

He finds the clothes from Boston in the back of his closet – the ones that the boys back in Massachusetts kept telling him to keep, just in case. "Dallas is going to be scary," Brad had said as he sat on Tyler's bed watching him pack. "It's going to happen again."

"No, it isn't," Tyler had snapped, voice thick with self-disappointment, thinking the whole time he wouldn't let it happen. And now here he is, he thinks indignantly, yanking on the basic black bra and panties with haste. When he puts on his Dallas Stars t-shirt, it still hangs far too loose on his body, but at least he can't see his tits anymore. He feels weird in the t-shirt once he puts on the skirt, a soft, pleated green and grey thing that hangs just above his knees.

He finds an elastic band in the kitchen and gathers up the loose material of the t-shirt in a knot at his waist to hide how big it feels, and leaves his apartment barefoot. He contemplates the tragedy of his existence and the billion different reactions he'd receive while he's waiting for the elevator to take him up two floors to Jamie and Jordie's apartment.

Tyler doesn't usually knock first – instead, he'll try the door and barge into the Benn's lives like he belongs there, which, at this point, it sure as hell feels like he does. So it feels weird now, standing at their door, fist poised to knock. And he does. The sound echoes through the apartment, and from the kitchen, probably over the stove, since Tyler's right on time, he can hear Jamie call, "It's open, Tyler!"

He pauses in the doorway where he'd usually toe off his shoes, but he doesn't have shoes that fit him right now. He pads into the kitchen and leans against the doorway, watching Jamie's back as he moves around the stove – pancakes, Tyler figures almost immediately when he sees the ingredients haphazardly spread across the counter. "You're going to spill that bag of flour one day," Tyler says as Jamie's elbow knocks into the bag. He wants to cringe at how unnaturally high his voice sounds, and he doesn't know what his face is doing when Jamie spins around, startled.

He can see Jamie's entire body lock up, muscles tensing as he turns to eyeball this stranger in his kitchen. Then suddenly as it happened, he relaxes again, eyes dancing up and down Tyler's frame until he's sure Jamie's having an eyeball seizure of some sort that affects both eyes (Tyler's not really sure about medical things, really, but it's just a theory). "Jesus, Tyler," Jamie moves up to him quickly, reaching out to grab his arm and pull him properly into the kitchen. "What happened?"

Tyler doesn't want to know what gave him away, though he figures it's the fact that it's barely eight in the morning and he's standing sleepily in Jamie's kitchen – and the hair, the eyes, the face, maybe. "I don't know," Tyler says weakly, letting Jamie manhandle him closer for observation. He feels small against Jamie's body, dwarfed by his bulk. "Don't worry though; it's happened before. I can find a way to fix it."

"What do you mean find a way to fix it?" Jamie demands, and Tyler just shakes his head, because there are some things he just doesn't want to talk about. 

"Your pancakes are burning." Jamie immediately spins back around and turns his attention to salvaging the smoking batter in the stove, letting Tyler sigh and drop onto one of the kitchen chairs. Jordie walks into the kitchen in the midst of the salvage, dressed in only his boxers and scratching idly at his stomach. The hand freezes and drops when he sees Tyler at the table. 

"Oh, uh, hi?"

"Hi Jordie," Tyler laughs, grinning as Jamie tosses the overflowing plate of pancakes onto the table. He reaches for it, and Jamie rolls his eyes.

"I'll get you a fucking plate, Tyler. Jesus, hold on."

"Wait, Tyler?" Jordie asks, and Tyler can practically see the gears turning as he processes this new information. "Oh, you're Tyler. That makes a lot more sense, actually."

"He looks the same, Jordie," Jamie sounds distinctly unimpressed as he drops three empty plates on the table long with some maple syrup, the real kind, and butter. 

"I'm not awake," Jordie muttered, grabbing the knife and stabbing into the butter. Jamie doesn't look any more impressed at that, but he lets it go, wordlessly taking the syrup from Tyler when he offers. They eat in silence for a few minutes before Jordie gets up and pours three mugs of coffee and returns to the table.

"Thanks," Tyler says quietly. His voice sounds stupid now, all high-pitched and breathy. The mug he has in his hands today is a Christmas mug, cluttered with reindeer pulling Santa along through the sky with a sleigh full of presents. Jamie's mug is polka-dotted white on blue, while Jordie's is plaid.

"Where the fuck did you get a plaid mug?" Jordie asks, voicing Tyler's thoughts. Jamie shrugs at his brother, his mouth stuffed full of pancakes. He chews and swallows before he talks, because unlike most people Tyler knows, Jamie actually has manners 

"It was a gift from that weird aunt that I can never remember the name of-"

"Auntie Gertrude?"

"Yeah, her. She said she found it in her attic and it reminded her of me."

"You should probably be offended by that," Tyler snorts, which isn't exactly dignifying on anybody, male or female. 

"Whatever, I like mugs," Jamie drains the last of his coffee and grabs his dishes, tossing them into the sink. "I cooked," he said pointedly at the two remaining at the table before ambling into the living room. 

"Fuck you too," Jordie calls after his retreating back, but nods at Tyler who's cleaning off his plate. "Go; I'm going to Brenden's after. May as well do the dishes first right?"

"I got 'em next time," Tyler says, because his momma raised him right. Jordie laughs.

"Maybe we should wait until you're back in your own skin." Tyler wants to object; he wants to tell Jordie that no matter what gender he is, it's still his skin since he's wearing it and everything, but he doesn't think it's worth the breath. Instead, he follows Jamie into the living room to find his teammate, his captain, sprawled out lazily on the couch.

"Move over or I'll sit on you," Tyler threatens, which makes Jamie scoff.

"Sure. You're, what, 110 pounds at best?"

"Oh fuck off," Tyler grunts, dropping his weight onto Jamie's stomach. Jamie lets out a rush of air that makes a soft 'oof' noise like he's been winded, but otherwise shows no reaction. "You're lame," he adds, seeing that Jamie has a dumb action movie on the TV.

"Feel free to change the channel," Jamie rolls his eyes as Tyler climbs off his stomach and flops down lengthwise on the couch. Normally, the couch isn't nearly big enough for the two of them, but Tyler's lost a lot of his size and he fits snugly against Jamie's side now, which in turn means they both fit comfortably together on the sofa. 

Tyler dozes a bit as Jamie zones out on the TV; he doesn't usually get to enjoy feeling small, but with his body pressed against Jamie's, he's never felt smaller in his life. He wonders if girls get to feel like this all the time, overshadowed by the hulking men holding hockey sticks. Tyler laughs, a movement that ripples through his body, and draws Jamie's attention.

"You okay there, bud?" Tyler makes a soft trilling noise that is at least 95% accidentally as he hums under his breath and nods.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Did you want to watch something?" Jamie asks as the video returns to the Netflix menu. Tyler shrugs, and lets Jamie pick another one of his dumb action movies, content to snuggle against his warm body on the couch in the nice air-conditioned apartment. "So," Jamie starts once the title credits roll and the movie shows robots on the TV.

"Yeah?"

"You gonna tell me what you meant earlier when you said you'd find a way to fix this?" Jamie sounds genuinely concerned; Tyler has to give him credit – when he'd first met Jamie, he was sure that he just fit the role of caring captain conveniently into his life after earning the C, but today, Tyler knows the worry is built into Jamie as much as hockey is ingrained in their lives. 

"I meant what I said," Tyler says flatly, wiggling around and turning on the couch so he's facing Jamie. "This has happened before, and I think I can be, uh, me again tomorrow."

"How exactly do you plan on doing that?" Jamie asks; he's definitely not paying any attention to the movie. Tyler wiggles again, eyes cast downward like he can't quite figure out why he's on the couch with Jamie to begin with – it's awkward, in this body, in any body, pressing himself so close to his friend, breathing the same air until Tyler feels like he's choking on his own lungs. He knows; he's been at this game for a long time.

"It's easy, really," Tyler starts, hesitates, and continues, "All I have to do is relax. I'm just stressed out, I guess. I'm usually pretty good at dealing with shit, but I guess getting eliminated from the playoffs might've set me off." It's a white lie. It's definitely not what set Tyler off – what set Tyler off may or may not have been a series of conversations with Brad, who's happily still playing hockey back in Boston, and asking Tyler if he's asked Jamie out yet. That may have done it.

"How do you plan on relax?"

"Well, like this," Tyler gives a half smile, but Jamie shakes his head.

"You're not relaxed, Tyler. Your whole body is stiff – c'mon, roll onto your stomach."

"What?"

"I'm going to help you relax," Jamie says like he's talking to a child, nudging Tyler until he complies and lies on his stomach. Surprisingly, Jamie's hands are gentle when they press into his back. The massage isn't anything special, and definitely not professional, but there's something intimate about it that wasn't ever there when he's at the rink getting the kinks worked out from his back – this is different, lying on the couch with Jamie sitting on his thighs, hands kneading into Tyler's back. 

The best part about being a girl, Tyler thinks, is that Jamie can't tell how much he's actually enjoying the massage. He's turned on, that much is obvious: his panties are wet, his nipples are hard and chafing against the cotton of his bra, and though he can't confirm if it's because he's horny, or it's Jamie's hands on his back (though he's sure it's some combination of them both).

"You should, uhm, take off your shirt," Jamie stutters out, pressing his fingers against Tyler's lower back, just under the t-shirt. "If, uh, you're okay with it, that is. I'd just, uh, it'd probably feel better, y'know?" Tyler agrees so he gently knocks Jamie's hand off his back and sits up long enough to pull off his shirt. 

The bra he owns isn't fancy, but it fits him and Brad had said it suited him when he modelled it for his friend back when he'd first bought it. It's plain black, accented with red lace around the wings and on the bottom part of the cups. Jamie adjusts him, moving his body easily so that he's lying on the sofa to Jamie's liking – then the hands are back, callused, hockey-rough fingers pressing against the smooth skin around the bra on Tyler's back. 

Though Jamie obviously isn't a trained masseur, he seems to know what he's doing and he's certainly helping work out the knots Tyler woke up with in the morning. He nearly falls asleep, slipping in and out of consciousness when Jamie finally stops and pulls Tyler back into a sitting position. "Okay?" Jamie asks, and Tyler nods, readjusting his skirt and curling up beside Jamie, leaning against his shoulder a bit. He doesn't bother with the shirt again.

"Thanks, that was really good," Tyler says quietly, a half-smile that doesn't quite express how _good_ the massage truly was for him. 

"I can, you know, do your legs too, if you want?" Jamie offers, and Tyler feels his cheeks flush.

"Yeah, uh, that'd be nice," Tyler chokes out, and lets Jamie once again rearrange him like a blanket on the couch, and get his hands all over Tyler's skin. He starts with Tyler's feet, which honestly is pretty gross since Tyler's been strutting all over without shoes on since he rolled out of bed with boobs, but whatever, and his feet are forgotten when Jamie starts working his way up Tyler's calves.

As he moves further up Tyler's legs, he flips him around, and by the time he's working on Tyler's thighs, he's kneeling on the ground with Tyler on the edge of the couch, holding his breath as Jamie's fingers creep up the skirt and back down again.

"You can, uh, move it if it's in the way," Tyler mumbles, blushing as Jamie tugs the skirt further up his thighs as soon as permission is granted. Somewhere between the explosion on the TV that's still going in the background and the sound of Jordie slamming the door behind him without a goodbye, Jamie's massage has turned into his fingers lightly stroking the inside of Tyler's thighs, higher with every breath.

"Tyler, you-" Jamie's voice is gruff and throaty; he cuts himself off mid-sentence and to Tyler's surprise, leans forward and lays his head on Tyler's thigh, right hand bracing himself on the couch, left hand pushing up his skirt farther and dancing along the edge of Tyler's underwear, and oh… Okay. 

"Jamie," Tyler whines in response, and when he looks down, really looks down, he sees Jamie's eyes are wide, pupils blown – he can feel Jamie's hand shaking against the skin on his upper thigh under the skirt. "It's okay," he says before Jamie can ask, and that hand, the shaking one, steadies immediately, moving purposefully against Tyler's skin until it's tracing the bikini line, fingers ghosting over the skin so light that Tyler bodily shivers.

Then just as fast as it happened, it stops – Jamie pulls his hand from under Tyler's body, wincing as he shifts his head off Tyler's thigh, and backing up a bit. "Sorry, my knee is bothering me," he sounds genuinely apologetic. Tyler frowns and grabs Jamie by the armpits, dragging him up onto the couch so that he can straddle Jamie's lap instead. As he swings his legs over Jamie's hips, he watches as Jamie's lips part, a huff of breath that Tyler can feel from their close proximity. 

Tyler, he just wants to kiss those lips, so he does, leaning in and pressing close. He's sloppy, unsure of what to do with his body when it's like this, but he knows his mouth, and he knows how to do this awesome thing with his tongue that has Jamie pressing his own tongue into Tyler's mouth minutes later. 

"Christ, Tyler," Jamie's voice shakes and Tyler can feel Jamie's lips move when he speaks. To be fair, Tyler's shaking a bit too, trying too hard not to press down against Jamie's lap, trying too hard not to pull his lips forward and just try and feel something – anything – just a bit of friction that'd probably benefit both of them.

But he waits, and he kisses Jamie until they're both red and flushed and panting for air. Jamie's hands have snaked their way back under Tyler's skirt, worrying at the soft material at his hips, and finally, those hands tug Tyler forward and pull him down. Tyler, who'd been overly attentive to Jamie's mouth the past while can't help but let out a surprised gasp that's immediately snuffed out by a moan as Jamie pulls him down directly on his dick, hard and swollen in his sweat pants. 

"Tyler, I-" Jamie reels back from the next kiss which leaves Tyler whining, latching his lips onto the neck and collar, fingers brushing against the soft fabric of Jamie's t-shirt. "Tyler, c'mon, look at me," Jamie says, which Tyler has to admire, because he's never had that much focus before with a chick practically sitting on his dick. Then again, Tyler realizes, the chick sitting on Jamie's dick is Tyler. 

His body stiffens involuntarily and he detaches from Jamie's neck to look up at his face. "Tyler, this isn't just because you're a girl-" Jamie rolls his hips up suddenly, and Jamie gasps again. "I mean, I'd like you however; you're just… It's you, and I just, you, we-" Jamie's reduced to babbling as Tyler grinds down against him, huffing out a breath of cold air against Jamie's collarbone and tugging at the t-shirt. Jamie complies, parting long enough to get his shirt over his head, before he turns back toward Tyler. "You're still you," he says finally.

"Well who else could I be?" Tyler asks weakly, letting Jamie readjust himself in his pants for a second before pulling Tyler back down with a groan. 

"Tyler, I really want to, I want-" Jamie's rolling his hips upward in little thrusts, his dick hard and obvious against Tyler's body – he shifts forward a bit, until he meets Jamie's thrusts with his own, and he's so wet, his panties feel sticky and glued to his body. Tyler waits patiently – waits for Jamie to ask permission. Instead, Jamie shakes his head, leans over, pushes his nose into Tyler's neck, and says, "I want more than just dry humping on the couch. I want to do this properly. I want to date you."

"You know I'm not going to stay a girl forever, right?" Tyler asks, with his whole body wilting as he pulls back from Jamie's next move. Jamie frowns, tightening his hands at Tyler's hips, and drags him forward again.

"Tyler, I told you," Jamie sighs, exasperated. "You're still you." And oh, that's true, Jamie did say that. "I want to do this properly," Jamie repeats himself – when you're in whatever body, when we have time so that I can take care of you, for real."

"How are you not taking care of me now?" Tyler asks, giving another pointed roll of his hips. 

"You were supposed to be relaxing," Jamie says. "You're not relaxed."

"I could be," Tyler says, running his hands down Jamie's chest until he folds his fingers under the waistband of Jamie's pants, "if you'd let me."

"Oh my god," Jamie groans, and in one swift movement, he's lifting Tyler off his lap, just long enough so that he can pull his pants and boxers to his knees, and Tyler can wrestle off the skirt and panties that are probably completely ruined at this point. Jamie gets Tyler's bra off with one hand, and draws his attention to cupping his breasts, the other hand pressing its way between Tyler's legs. "You're so wet," Jamie mutters into Tyler's ear. "Won't even need lube like this," he hums. 

The pad of Jamie's thumb finds Tyler's clit within moments, and Tyler's gasping as Jamie fucks into him with his fingers – everything is just so slick and hot. Tyler reaches down blindly, tracing Jamie's body, stopping only to tweak his nipples before moving down farther. He stops kissing Jamie long enough to swipe his tongue over the palm of his hand and wrap Jamie up in one handful, Jamie's hips jerking up helpfully on their own accord as Tyler tries to match pace with Jamie. 

He can feel the tug of the skin under his hand, the weight of Jamie – the way he twitches and swells even bigger under the attention, and God, Tyler's never wanted something inside of him so bad in his life. Jamie's fingers are working miracles, and as close as Tyler is, he wants, no, he needs this. He pushes Jamie's hand out of the way to fit himself on top of Jamie's dick, until- "Tyler."

"What," Tyler huffs, frustrated as Jamie pulls back. Jamie sucks in a deep breath, like he's trying not to shake.

"Tyler, I can get a condom, if you let me up."

"I'm clean," Tyler says quickly, his breath catching in his throat – because Jamie cares. Jamie cares. Tyler is so fucking gone for this guy it's not even funny anymore; it's just a little bit pathetic. "I mean, if you really meant it – if you want to date me – I don't… We don't have to use a condom. I trust you, okay?"

"Okay," Jamie says softly, his breath tickling Tyler's ear as he talks. "I'm clean too, I mean. You're serious about this, yeah? You're not going to change your mind when you turn back?"

" _Jamie_ ," Tyler stresses, sighing. He doesn't know how else to show how committed he really is – he reaches for Jamie, pulling him close so that they're glued together at the chest briefly, then back so that Tyler can push his forehead against Jamie's. It takes a minute for them to make eye contact, but once they do, neither looks away.

Jamie's shaking, and Tyler's breath is coming in uneven pants when Jamie finally pushes into Tyler; he's big and Tyler's tight – but they fit together well, Tyler's whole body trembling, clenching around Jamie and holding him tight as he can. "Do you," Jamie starts, stops, takes a deep breath, and starts again, "Tyler, do you want to ride me?" And oh, Tyler hadn't even thought about what they were going to do once Jamie actually got his dick inside him that suddenly that sounded like the best idea he'd ever heard in his life.

So, for lack of a better way to say it, Tyler rides Jamie like a fucking rodeo bull – with desperation hot on his lips and as much vigour and enthusiasm his body can muster. They kiss until they're so uncoordinated their teeth knock together, and then they just pant against each other's lips, all teeth and tongue until they can't handle it anymore.

Tyler can tell Jamie's close from the way his hips stutter upward without any sort of rhythm, his body quivering underneath Tyler's. He plunges a hand between Tyler's leg, pressing roughly against his clit until Tyler gasps and comes, his body pulsing against Jamie.

Jamie pulls out a second later leaving Tyler feeling empty inside as he's flipped onto his back in one motion, kneeling over his body and jerking off hot and fast onto his chest, coming in thick white ribbons all over Tyler's breasts, a bit of it on his stomach and his chin. Jamie's kind enough not to collapse on top of Tyler when he topples, falling mostly on the couch but half on the floor as well.

"We should clean up," Tyler says reluctantly after they regain their breath again. "I mean, we don't know when Jordie's coming home."

"Oh man, I forgot about him," Jamie groans, hauling his sore body into a standing position before offering Tyler a hand off the couch. He wipes them both off with his t-shirt before gathering his clothes and leading Tyler into his bedroom. "Maybe we shouldn't tell him-"

"Dude, the first thing I'm going to tell him when he gets home is how we fucked on the couch. He's going to be so happy that he's going to give me the couch. I really love that couch."

"Asshole," Jamie says affectionately. "Want to take a bath?"

"What?"

"You're supposed to be relaxing," Jamie reminds him, nudging him toward the bathroom. "Let's take a bath."

They scrub each other down quickly in the shower before preparing the bath. "For a dude who plays hockey, you've got a lot of bath shit," Tyler notes as Jamie pours some purple stuff from a bottle into the tub they're filling. "What's that? It smells awesome."

"Lavender bubble bath," Jamie grins, sliding into the tub and opening his arms invitingly. Now, come on. Get in." 

Tyler doesn't usually take kindly to being told what to do, but he thinks in this situation he's more than okay with it. Hell, with Jamie, he's usually okay with it. He snuggles into Jamie's arms, breathes in the scent of lavender, closes his eyes, and relaxes.

"I want to take you out sometime," Jamie says, his arms secure around Tyler's middle. "I want to take you out for dinner and a movie, and a long walk on the beach to see the sunset. I want to take you home to mom and dad, and I want to show you where I'm from."

"Okay," Tyler agrees. "But I want to take you back to Boston one day, not just for Bruins Hockey, but the real Boston, the city I gave my life to before this happened."

"One day," Jamie promises, pressing a kiss to the top of Tyler's head. 

Tyler must fall asleep, because he wakes up naked in Jamie's bed; there's a fluffy powder blue towel at the end of the bed that must be his, and when he reaches for it, he feels lopsided and sore all over again. He frowns, looking down, and his feet are bigger now. He sighs.

He steals a pair of Jamie's boxers and a t-shirt before walking into the kitchen, which is probably a good thing, because Jordie's waving his arms around, yelling. "What the fuck- you did what to the couch?" Jordie turns around at the sound of footsteps and glares at Tyler. "Seriously dude, on the couch?" Tyler shrugs, and Jordie throws his arms up in exasperation. "You're fucking ridiculous," he sighs, stomping off to his room.

"Hi," Tyler says softly, looking up at Jamie once Jordie clears the vicinity.

"Hi," Jamie responds, watching Tyler fidget awkwardly, unsure of what to do with his hands. "Oh, come here already." Tyler tucks himself up against Jamie; if he fit nicely around Jamie before, he fits even better now, his body curving around Jamie's naturally. 

"It's okay like this?" Tyler asks – he feels smaller than he did when he was two-thirds his current size, and he's not sure what to make of that – how no matter how big he is, he feels dwarfed under Jamie's protective gaze. 

"Tyler, you're good, as long as you're still you," Jamie reminds him, and tugs him close for a close-lipped kiss. "And you're always still going to be Tyler, no matter what body you're wearing today."

"Okay," Tyler says. "You too, I mean."

"Good," Jamie says, kissing him again. He smiles down at Tyler, barefoot and wearing borrowed clothes – the t-shirt has 14 across the back – standing toe to toe in the kitchen. "And if you have time, I wouldn't mind finding out what this body can do too."

**Author's Note:**

> "Shoulders too broad for a girl  
> Keeps you reminded  
> Helps you to remember where  
> You come from"  
> \- Transgender Dysphoria Blues, Against Me!
> 
> I was having a lot of feelings about gender dysphoria and I meant to write a story about that but maybe I'll do that another day. And here you have couch sex and Seguin as a girl instead.
> 
> Hit me up on Twitter [@Munnoaster](http://twitter.com/Munnoaster/) or tumblr as [chloroformdreams](http://chloroformdreams.tumblr.com/) if you want to chat about fandom related things.


End file.
